As the fields and trees in the valley became brown and bare, Ode’s Magic grew worse. It was a buzzing headache that he could never shake off and an ache in his arms and legs that would not subside no matter how much he stretched. Ode felt worn and exhausted, and it was beginning to show. After one dinner in the eating hall, Erek held him back.
“You be looking ill,” said the Kin, his dark brow knotted with worry. “How many night shifts you be doing? You be needing a rest.”
“I’m fine … it’s just an early winter illness.”
Erek studied his friend’s bloodshot eyes and hunched shoulders. “There be something wrong,” he said.
Ode glanced up and down the hallway where they stood. Occasionally, a Kin or Kiness would pass by, but otherwise they were alone. He was tempted to tell Erek everything. He did not think he could stand it much longer. The confession was on his lips, but he stopped himself at the last moment, knowing that he could not risk being cast out of the temple. Then he would never see his friends or Briar again.
“I don’t like winter,” he said at last, and it was partly true. “I remember how I almost died, and I remember how you saved me.”
Erek nodded, and Ode prayed that his friend believed him.
“I be understanding how hard that might be for you,” said the Kin. “Such fears do nay leave us easily. I be seeing what I can do.”
“Do?”
“I be asking the High-Kin what we can be doing for you to make it better.”
“You don’t need to—”
Erek put his hand on Ode’s shoulder and shook it gently. “I did nay bring you back to this realm from death to see you suffer,” he chided, his brown eyes warm. “That be the end of the matter.”
“Thank you,” said Ode, his chest tingling with guilt. “Thank you. You’re a true friend to me.”
The Kin smiled and walked away. His kindness brought Ode some relief, but just a few days later, Ode’s Magic felt stronger and more persistent than ever. His whole body throbbed with its fizzing pressure so that every breath was agony. Arrow glued himself to Ode’s side, whining with worry and nudging his master’s legs. Struggling through the day, Ode made it to the evening in a haze of pain. He felt too ill to attend dinner at the eating hall and instead sat by himself in the shepherd’s hut, trying to ignore the stinging that rippled through his limbs.
He knew that he must shift or it would happen of its own accord. He had tried to fight it for too long, hoping that it would disappear again, but he could not go on like this. With his whole body aching, Ode decided that tonight he would shift just once before Briar appeared—to get it over with. Since his infamous battle with the wolves, there had been no new attacks on the flock and the shepherds had lapsed into their old routine. Throughout the summer, Ode had often been on the night watch alone, which had suited his meetings with Briar perfectly; but now that winter was approaching, the shepherds were all tightening their standards. There were frequently two or more shepherds on the night shift now, and Ode knew that he would have to try hard tonight to shake off the others. They often liked to gather to chat before spreading across the mountainside, and since Briar did not appear until later, Ode usually did not mind, but tonight it was imperative that he left quickly.
As it was, he did not find it difficult to break away from the others. The shepherds were full from a large dinner and were happy to settle down for a night of intermittent watching and dozing as soon as possible. With his whole body trembling with pain, Ode strode up the mountainside and threw down his things beside his perch. Some sheep were grazing nearby and scattered in clouds of brown dust.
Looking around to make sure he was alone, Ode began pulling off his clothes. The sky was dark above him and the moon was a pale crescent that hung low in the sky. As the cool air hit Ode’s bare skin, it began to burn. He touched the white feather around his neck and felt its delicate bristles bite the skin of his hand. These past moon cycles, he had almost forgotten it was there, as if it were a familiar scar on his body that he no longer noticed. Now, it felt heavy and powerful and Ode stood with his feet apart, waiting for the shift to take hold. He knew that it would not be an easy transformation.
Ode had vague recollections of what his first shifts had been like, but just then, it felt as if they were happening all over again. His limbs contorted and snapped, morphing into the form of another. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, but the sound disappeared into the gasp of another animal. Parts of him shrank and parts of him stretched. It was all over in a moment, but it felt long and agonized, and his transformed body was sore and stiff. He had not been the white bird in so long that it took him a while to remember how to move.
He waddled forward under Arrow’s watchful gaze and stretched out his long neck. In his bird form, he longed to fly, but he knew it would be foolish. The shepherds would surely see him, and if not them, someone awake in the valley would spot him. He forced himself to hop over the rocks instead, occasionally unfolding his huge white wings to flex and stretch them. The pressure that had slowly built over the days instantly vanished, and he felt giddy with relief. He was so pleased that he did not notice the silver shadow at the mouth of the mountain pass before it was almost too late.
Arrow growled a warning and a squawk of alarm escaped Ode’s beak. He tumbled over the rocks to his pile of clothes, his webbed feet slipping in the dust. For a second, he feared that he would not be able to shift back. He could not remember how to do it and dread churned in his stomach. He looked over his shoulder at the silver shadow that was watching him from the mountain pass with perplexed, blue eyes. It would not be long before Briar followed Jet, and Ode imagined that he could hear her now, climbing up the rocks on the other side. Just when he thought he would be discovered, his bones began to shudder. With a cry of surprise and a stab of pain, he became a man again. With tingling fingers, he grabbed hold of his clothing and hurriedly pulled them on.
“What are you doing?” a soft, beautiful voice called.
Ode was wearing just his breeches and boots. He quickly grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head before throwing his furs over his shoulders. With scarlet cheeks, he turned to see Briar standing nearby, her face flushed.
“There … there was something caught in my shirt,” he said.
She stared at him.
“You’re early,” Ode added, because he could think of nothing else to say.
Briar’s blue eyes suddenly became earnest. “Yes—yes, I hurried here,” she stuttered. “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My friend, Kayra, is ill. I think—I think you were right.”
“She is with child?”
Briar bit her lip and nodded.
“What’s ailing her?” It had been a long time since Ode had practiced being a birther and he tried hard to remember all of Cala’s teachings.
“Well, I … I think she is having a baby.”
“Now?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Where is she?”
“In my room.”
“In a dormitory?”
“No … I sleep in different quarters from everyone else.”
Ode was too preoccupied with thoughts of the pregnant Kiness to think how odd that was.
“Have you told the High-Kiness?” he asked.
“No, Kayra made me promise not to. She is not herself, and I can tell that she is hurting—I do not know what to do!”
Briar’s last words were muffled by sobs and her face crumpled into tears. Before he could stop himself, Ode rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him, pressing her head into his chest, and he breathed in her sweet, heady scent. The warmth of her body against his made his skin tingle and he longed to hold her like that forever, keeping her safe. Suddenly, she pulled away, wiping her face with the edge of her red cloak.
“Sorry—thank you—sorry,” she gasped.
Dizzy from her touch, Ode could not reply at first.
But finally he said, “Tell me what is wrong with your friend, and I will try to help. I’ve some knowledge of such things from my homeland.”
“She has pains all across her stomach and she says they are getting stronger all the time.”
“She must be in labor!”
“Is that bad?”
“It means the baby is coming now,” said Ode, pacing up and down.
Briar gasped and whispered a quick prayer.
“If you won’t tell the High-Kiness then you need to bring me to her.”
Briar hesitated.
“I know men are not allowed in the Kinesses’ chambers,” added Ode. “But if your friend does not receive help—then she could die.”
“If that is so, I must take you. We can leave Arrow and Jet here to watch the sheep. No one need know that you are gone.”
Briar took her snow leopard’s great face in her small hands and began whispering to her, petting her whiskers. Ode looked at Arrow doubtfully.
“We are not used to being parted,” he said.
“He cannot come into the temple. He will surely be seen.”
Ode knew she was right. He put his hand on his wolf’s flat, gray head and said, “Stay,” as convincingly as he could manage.
But when they turned to leave, Ode looked over his shoulder to see his wolf climbing the rocks after him.
“No,” he said gently. “Stay.”
Arrow whined and tilted his head, and when Ode began walking again, the wolf followed.
“It’s no use,” he said to Briar. “He won’t stay.”
“Fine, but he cannot give us away,” she said with a frown.
“He won’t.”
They climbed through the mountain pass and hurried across the rocks on the other side, stumbling through the darkness. Ode had often wondered how Briar managed to sneak out of the temple unseen, and as he followed her through snaking, dark crevices, and up a sheer cliff face, he realized that it was not easy. Panting for breath, they stopped and crouched behind a high, stony wall. Briar motioned for him to be quiet, and she carefully picked at one of the rocks until it came away. She peered through the gap before nodding and indicating that they should climb over.
Ode watched with stunned admiration as she hitched her skirt into the belt around her waist and began climbing. He tried unsuccessfully not to look at her long slender legs and when she caught him, she frowned.
On the other side of the wall a wide temple courtyard lay before them. Multicolored prayer flags zigzagged from one end to the other and a gold statue glinted in the moonlight at the center. Ode did not recognize this place, and he realized that they must be in the Kinesses’ chambers. Arrow scrambled over the wall behind them, landing with a soft thump on the flagstones.
Checking left and right, Briar waved them on. They wound through the shadows and slipped into the cool, dark temple. Smoky incense clogged the air, and Ode could hear the faint, hushed snores of sleeping Kinesses nearby. He followed Briar through hallways and around corners until they reached a heavy, red curtain that she pulled aside. Ode ducked beneath her arm and found himself in a small, glowing room. The walls were blue and there were two beds, one of which was occupied by a scared, gasping Kiness. She looked at him with round, brown eyes.
“It is all right, Kayra,” said Briar, pulling the curtain back into place. “This is my friend.”
Kayra regarded Ode suspiciously, but then her face contorted with pain and she clutched at her inflated belly.
“There now, there now,” said Ode in his gentle birther-voice, plumping up the pillows behind Kayra’s shoulders and taking her hand.
He could scarcely believe that he was being so bold, but all of his training came flooding back to him and he acted instinctively. Just the other day he would not have dared to touch a Kiness, let alone hold her hand. Such a thing was forbidden to one who was not a temple member. Yet, when he looked at Kayra now, he did not see a Kiness but rather a frightened young mother.
“We will need cloths and warm water,” he said to Briar, who stood silently in the corner, watching him.
She nodded and disappeared.
“You need to stay calm and breathe,” he instructed, turning back to Kayra. “You do realize what is happening to you, don’t you?”
Kayra’s fingers tightened around his hand as she panted. Her headdress was damp with sweat and her cheeks were slick and glistening in the candlelight.
“It be a baby,” she wheezed. “I be thinking that might be it.”
“Yes, it is a baby … and you won’t be able to keep it a secret when it comes out. You’ll have to tell the High-Kiness.”
Kayra grimaced with fear, but another contraction shook her body and she held her hands over her mouth to muffle her scream.
“This be too much,” she wailed. “I be dying!”
“Hush, it’s all right. I’m here.”
Kayra looked at him and nodded. “I be trusting you,” she gasped.
Ode noticed Briar had returned and she stood, lingering in the doorway. He beckoned her over.
“I’ll need your help as well,” he said.
“I will do what I can,” she replied stiffly.
Briar’s face was caught in the shadow of the candlelight and Ode could not read what she was thinking. He felt that she was suddenly distant when not long ago they had been so close—so close that he had actually held her. As she placed a jug of water and a pile of old linen beside the bed, Ode hoped she would not think differently of him after this night.
A cry of pain from Kayra stole both of their attentions and they each took one of her hands, whispering words of comfort. Briar watched her friend writhe in pain and her blue eyes filled with tears.
“Just tell me what to do,” she said to Ode, her voice breaking.
He smiled and nodded.
All night they stood by Kayra’s side and nursed her through to morning. Although humped, the Kiness’s belly was not large enough and Ode guessed the baby must be premature. He predicted that the birth would be difficult and he was not wrong. Kayra, exhausted and sick, could barely push her child out of her by the time it was finally ready to come.
His shirt soaked through with perspiration, Ode encouraged her endlessly, all the while praying that she would make it until the morning. She was inexperienced and terrified. Even if she managed to have the baby, Ode worried that she would not bond with it. He feared for Briar, also, who looked just as astonished and petrified by the whole ordeal as her friend. If he was not comforting Kayra, then he was reassuring Briar with cheerful comments he did not wholly believe himself.
“It’s almost there, I can see its head!” he whispered as light began to seep through the shuttered windows.
Kayra looked both alarmed and relieved at once. “It be a boy or a girl?” she asked.
“I can’t see yet. It’s still inside you.”
“Push!” Briar urged her. “Keep pushing, and do not give up.”
Kayra followed her friend’s orders, her face set in grim lines, and Ode waited with the linen for the baby to fully emerge.
“Push!” Briar cried.
“You’re almost there,” said Ode. “Just a little more.”
Kayra screamed as she pushed with all her might, and then she collapsed against the pillows, murmuring softly to herself.
Ode held the tiny creature in his hands and rubbed it gently.
“Should it be making a sound?” asked Briar, watching his face.
Ode kept rubbing the baby’s tiny limbs and tried not to look as concerned as he felt.
“My baby …” Kayra moaned. “I be wanting my baby …”
The air was split with a piercing squeak and Ode almost fainted in relief.
“A little baby boy,” he announced, holding it up for Kayra to see.
Briar cooed, and Kayra smiled in delight.
“Let me be holding him,” she said. “Be coming to me, little one.”
Ode handed over the mewing baby and just the
n, he forgot he was in the temple with two young Kinesses. For a short while he was transported back to the Wild Lands and he expected a ceremony to commence that evening with colored feathers and beating drums.
“What be the meaning of this?” boomed a voice.
Ode jumped and Arrow, who had been sleeping in the corner, barked.
In the doorway stood the High-Kiness, her mouth open in horror.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Man Birther
It was not without difficulty that Ode explained how he had managed to get into the Kinesses’ temple unnoticed. Standing before the High-Kiness and the High-Kin that morning, their robes rumpled from their haste in dressing, Ode tried his best to avoid any connection that could be made between himself and Briar. Instead, he fabricated a tale in which he had heard the anguished cries of a Kiness while wandering around the hallways unable to sleep, and he had followed them to Kayra. That other girl, he said, had happened to be in the room and she had helped deliver the baby.
The High-Kin and the High-Kiness received this information with blank, stunned faces. The High-Kiness could not believe that such a thing had happened to one of her students, and she struggled to accept that the newborn was actually real, though she had seen it with her own eyes. She fiddled with the folds of her headdress and the lines around her eyes were deep with concern.
“How you be knowing what to do?” the High-Kin asked Ode, smoothing down his beard, which was tangled from his night of sleep.
“In the Wild Lands I was trained for such things,” Ode said, resting his hand behind one of Arrow’s silky ears for courage. “I delivered the babies of my tribe and helped the mothers.”
The High-Kin and the High-Kiness’s eyebrows shot up in unison.
“Oh …” they both whispered faintly.
Then there was silence.
“I nay be knowing how this all happened,” muttered the High-Kiness.
“I think I must say this,” said Ode, and they looked at him in surprise. Even he could not believe that he was about to be so bold. “You must teach the Kins and Kinesses about birthing and such things. Perhaps if Kayra had known about it then she wouldn’t have found herself in this situation. If I hadn’t been there, then she would have died—she was weak and scared. Is there no one in this temple that knows about birthing?”
Feathers Page 19
